Consider this my two weeks notice, mutha fuckas...

I quit my low-paying, spirit-breaking, pushing credit cards on poor people job!

"When in the Course of human events it becomes necessary for one people to dissolve the political bands which have connected them with another and to assume among the powers of the earth, the separate and equal station to which the Laws of Nature and of Nature's God entitle them, a decent respect to the opinions of mankind requires that they should declare the causes which impel them to the separation."

Or, as Tommy Jefferson said to the tyrant King George III, "Fuck this baby...I shan't sell your crappy electronics or extended warranties any longer." I may be paraphrasing this.

This summer I shall make my way using only my wits, guile and perhaps a chainsaw. If you need any chainsawing, guiling or wittiness around your property ... contact me through this blogsite.

Thirteen days to go. As my punishment for leaving I'll have to wear khaki pants and repeatedly listen to Carrie Underwood and Toby Keith songs.

Mind you, wearing khaki pants and listening to the same ten crappy country songs over and over was part of my job description.

Unless they find a way to make pants khakier or cram more references to Jesus and America into George Strait songs ... I Will Survive.

I've Learned a Lot in Thirty-Eight Years...

...so I'm fairly sure I'll be asked to speak at a commencement address sometime in the future. Granted, it may be as a cautionary tale. I'm not what you would call 'successful' but I do have life experience (I'll mail $5 cash money to the first person with the appropriate Simpson's response and mailing address. Hint: cranberry silo).
Never mind, this is what I would tell the kids were I asked. It's in fact what I yell at everyone in the corner of Fittons and West Street whenever I have a day off.

I'm pretty sure, on your death-bed, that you won't regret having phoned in sick to go fishing.

I've never regreted taking pills I've randomly found. Worst case scenario? They have no effect.

Read as much as you can if only to make people think you are smart when you watch Jeopardy.

Watch as many documentaries as your attention span will allow. See above.

Try to have a back up plan. You probably are not as talented as you think you are.

Just once, add a gratuitous picture of the Mr. T twins posing with Curious George on top of a Camaro to your blog.

If you don't hate someone, tell them just one time before they snuff it.

Ambien and vodka do not mix unless you want a noggin-sized hole in the drywall next to the toaster

Always have marijiuana on hand but don't smoke at work unless you are a dish-washer, graphic designer or baby photographer.

Wanna pretend you understand jazz music and impress bohemian chicks? Learn this phrase - 'Jelly Roll Morton may have invented it but, brother, Ornette Coleman perfected it!"

Professional critics are full of horseshit. Celine Dion, Titanic and Oprah's Book Club are as valid as Husker Du, Repo Man and the books Brian read in college while ripped on rat poison and cheap beer. Art is how it affects you.
Except for According To Jim.
That show is just plain shitty.

The best alcoholic mix for slushies? Rye whiskey.

You're Welcome.

.......OUT OF MY WAY...I'M ANGIE DICKiNSON!

The next time your pharmacist tells you that Dextromethorphan is a 'creativity drug', spit in her face and call her a liar for me!

It's a nasty, nasty drug that makes you enjoy Japanese monster movies (giant flying turtles rawk!), read biographies of Charles Schultz and neglect blogs. A thousand pardons to all who threatened, tickled, cajoled and whined at me. Please forgive me ... but surely if Gamera, who was once "the enemy of all Japan but now he is a friend to the children" can change ... I can change too.

The Dextromethorphan (or DM, as I call it) actually had me believe - for a split second - that the Toronto Maple Leafs could either make the play-offs or get a decent draft pick. Silly hipster. Now all I have is the schadenfreude directed at Ottawa Senators fans whose team has gone directly into the toilet.

My loyal homo following can disregard the above comment, but Mark - I know you're feelin' me buddy.
(Homos ... you just can't feel me ... unless I'm quite drunk and you tell me I'm pretty. By the way, quit saying 'pretty', leaving a long pause, then saying 'pretty ugly' under your breath. That's a douche-bag thing to do.)

The DM even made me neglect my job as a salesman of quality electronics that everyo ... oh fuckit, I can't even complete this sentence (note the entendre) with a straight face. I sell crap. Absolute crap. If you are my friend, do not buy anything I sell you. If you're really my friend I won't even try.

Without the help of a telethon held by Fergie Oliver or the guy who used to play Harrigan the Leprechaun (H A Double R I G A N spells HARRIGAN) I kicked the DM monkey off my back. It takes 475 ml of Wiser's, 27 cigarettes and fondling my beloved new knife called Vendetta every damn day.

But it's worth it. Kids ... don't go down the Dextromethorphan trail. Stay relatively clean.

It's worth it.

In the long run.

I suppose

Cat Truce Good For Local Economy, Says Mayor

A fragile feline peace was achieved in the Leith household Saturday morning as Fuzzy, Dexter and Becky suspended hostilities to pledge allegiance to Joan.
The sporadic fighting had been going on the better part of a week after Becky and Fuzzy were left at the Leith house while their owner, Neal Bridgens is vacationing in Spain.
"We realized this belligerence was counter-productive and keeping us from reaching our common goals," a spokesperson quoted from a written statement drafted by all three cats. "Namely, getting fed and annoying the bald, angry man in the living room. Quite frankly, we prefer the slow moving judgmental lady. She gives us food and yells less. Sometimes she gives us tuna water."
Sources say Brian Ellicott, the angry. bald man in question, has become a bit too liberal with the spray bottle, prompting the cats to band together. Barb Leith, speaking on condition of anonymity, said "He sprayed Becky ... Becky-Becky-Boo (hic). I mean, Fuzzy scratches and Dexter likes to fight but what's Becky ever done? Huh? Nuthin', that's what!"
The water bottle is allegedly not just used to keep cats in line.
"He sprayed me when I tried to take his cheese. I like cheese (hic). I just wanted some cheese," sobbed Leith.
When reached for comment, Ellicott issued a terse statement.
"I hate those fucking cats."

The Top Five Most Influential Dead Celebrities

Norman Fell
Most famous for his role as Mr. Roper in Three's Company, Fell died of cancer in 1998 at the age of seventy-four. A character actor, Norman Fell appeared in the original Ocean's 11, It's A Mad Mad Mad Mad World, Catch 22 and C.H.U.D. II: Bud The Chud.

Most Awesome Role?
Jack McGuire in The Kinky Coaches and The Pom Pom Pussycats (1981)
Mortal Enemy?
Don Knotts
Lasting Legacy?
Norman Fell didn't pioneer the concept of the comic misunderstanding with hilarious consequences but, brother, did he perfect it! Add that to his tendancy to break the 'fourth wall' and leer suggestively at the audience? Comedy gold.

Paul Lynde
Game show main-stay Lynde died of a heart attack in 1982, likely brought about by his fondness for drinking and drugging. Lynde had recurring roles on The Munsters and Bewitched but it was his gig as Center Square on Hollywood Squares that allowed him to spread his ... wings and and entertain us with thinly-veiled (ahem) gags about his homosexuality.
Sample:
Host: Who are more likely to be romantically responsive. Women under thirty or women over thirty?Lynde: I don't have a third choice?

Most Awesome Role?Sportscaster on Son of Flubber (1963)
Mortal Enemy?Charles Nelson Reilly
Lasting Legacy?
Lynde paved the way for a generation of televised sassy homos. Without Paul Lynde, there would be no Niles from Frasier, no Jack from Will & Grace, Corky from Life Goes On (oh yeah...he is) and no Cory from My Life.

Dana Plato
Plato played Kimberly Drummond, Gary Coleman's adoptive sister on Diff'rent Strokes until she was fired for getting fucked up on the set everyday and, subsequently, pregnant. I suspect Conrad Bain.
She went on to appear in such diverse films as Bikini Beach Race, Lethal Cowboy and Different Strokes: The Story of Jack and Jill ... and Jill.
Although her 1999 death was labelled a suicide, Arnold and Willis swear it was just an ordinary drug overdose.

Most Awesome Role?
Lisa, Mike Seaver's girlfriend on Growing Pains, who tries but ultimately fails to get some Kirk Cammeron cock in 1985. (Thanks to Barb for this tidbit ... I'm proud to know you even though your right breast was itchy all day and when you finally investigated six hours later, found the cause was a Cool Ranch Dorito underneath.)
Mortal Enemy?Tootie from The Facts Of Life
Lasting Legacy?
Plato was THE child star fuck-up, arrested for robbing a video store with a pellet gun. Britney, Lindsay. Olsen Twins ... are you paying attention?

Redd Foxx
Best Known as Fred Sanford on seventies sitcom Sanford and Son, Redd Foxx had a very raunchy night club act in the sixties. My father used to have 8-tracks of the albums he released that he used to hide with his porno and ammunitiion for fear that they would warp my fragile young mind.
Foxx was a friend of Malcolm Little (later Malcom X) in the 1940s'. He died in 1991 on the set of the short-lived stcom The Royal Family of a heart attack. Sadly, cast and crew thought he was doing his "I'm coming Elizabeth" fake heart attack routine from Sanford and Son, laughed and did nothing.

Most Awesome Role?
Redd Foxx in The Redd Foxx Comedy Hour (1977)
Mortal Enemy?
Honkies
Lasting Legacy?
Without Redd Foxx, there would be no Richard Pryor. Without Richard Pryor, there would be no Eddie Murphy. Without Eddie Murphy, there would be no Nutty Professor 2: The Klumps. The world would be a poorer place.

Andre The Giant
Born Andre Rene Rousimoff, dubbed the 'eighth wonder of the world', Andre The Giant stood about seven-feet-tall and weighed about 500 pounds. Andre appeared in one of the best Sunday afternoon movies ever, The Princess Bride, and by all accounts got his co-stars Mandy Patinkin and Cary Ewles so drunk every night director Rob Reiner wanted to fire him. One night, Andre alledgedly drank 116 beers. When he passed out in a hotel lobby, his companions couldn't move him, so they grabbed the hotel piano and placed it over him so he wouldn't be disturbed. Ah, drunken logic ... how I love ya. Andre died in 1993 of congestive heart failure brought on by being a giant.
Oh yeah, he also wrassled.

Most Awesome Role?
Bigfoot in The Six Million Dollar Man (1976)
Mortal Enemy?
That fucker Hacksaw Jim Duggan
Lasting Legacy
There is no-one ... I repeat NO-ONE ... that drunken French giant children look up to more than Andre the Giant. No one!

I am going to shoot Jack Frost in the face...

...or perhaps I will try to disembowel God.
I don't care, whoever is responsible for this horrible fucking weather is going to get a severe beating.
Maybe I'll give Al Gore the pantsing of a lifetime for telling me horrible lies and getting my hopes up about global warming.

(Hipster's lawyer note: any threats made against former American vice-presidents are purely satirical and not actionable under American fair-comment laws. Fair comment is defined as a "common law defense [that] guarantees the freedom of the press to express statements on matters of public interest, as long as the statements are not made with ill will, spite, or with the intent to harm the plaintiff". Any threats, overt or implied, against Jack Frost or God are not considered actionable as both parties are completely fictional while Mr. Gore is only semi-fictional.)

All this snow is making my eye twitch constantly from rage. My lower back is in constant pain from shoveling. I can barely drag myself out of bed -- even on the rare occasion that I'm not hung-over. I know more snow has fallen; I know it will be very fucking cold indeed; and I know I will, in all likelihood, never see the sun shine again. I'm at the point where I feel like burning down a building -- not necessarily my place of work -- just to keep warm.

(Hipster's lawyer note: no overt threat was made and any fire at The Aging Hipster's place of work must be considered purely coincidental until a full arson investigation is complete.)

The constant snow that has plagued South-Central Ontario is the worst weather disaster I have witnessed in my lifetime. I'm sorry for your loss Indonesia, what with your nasty Tsunami.
New Orleans ... with that horrible Hurricane Katrina ... condolences all around but at least you didn't have to shovel it.

Plus, as a caucasian anything that happens to me merits more attention and, ergo, more sympathy. Sorry, People of Colour. I don't make the rules. I just enforce them.

(Hipster's ex-lawyer note: I feel I can no longer represent my client in good conscience but wish him all the best in the future.)

The Return of Brian's Celebration of Booze, Pills, The Simpsons, Non-Sequiters and Nihilism

Sorry I ducked out on you, loyal reader(s) ... Unlike so many of your daddies, I had a good excuse.
No. I didn't go out for a pack of smokes and just didn't come back ... My computer, or Computey as I like to call her, crapped out.
I realize this might sound like an excuse ... I could have written you at work. I've done it before. Why not this time, Brian? Why did you abandon us?
Because I'm pretty sure that the good people at The Source by Circuit City are really looking for an excuse to fire me. My boss hired her bestest buddy and there are only so many hours to go around. I have to cover my ass so they'll have to can me without just cause, When they do, I can kick corporate ass ... or at least collect pogey.

In my roughly three-week absence I:

drank 3.75 litres of Canadian Club.

drank fourteen litres of wine.

smoked about half a joint.

bitched about John Ferguson Jr. to anyone who would listen

drank 48 Diet Dr. Peppers.

fought with one mustacioed District Manager.

egged one man's house and left a threatening note for his kids and their 'reject from the Village People' father.

bitched about the shoddy treatment of John Ferguson Jr. at the hands of Leafs managemant

ate two whole turkerys.

watched 48 episodes of The Simpsons.

watched one episode of Two-and-a-Half Men.

wanted my 22 minutes back.

watched Murray McLauchlan with Steve and a bunch of old hippies.

bitched about Cliff Fletcher to anyone who would listen.

no-one listened. no-one ever listens.

and drank nine more glasses of wine while I was writing this.

It was pretty much business as usual. I missed you.

Merry Christmas to all my friends ...

...and have a safe and happy time celebrating the inexact birthday of God incarnate, born of a woman who was un-porked by man.
Jesus Christ, son-of-God but also God and I think the Holy Spirit as well (my theology here is admittedly a little weak) was born in order to perform a few miracles, abuse some moneylenders and say some genuinely nice things about the poor and the meek.
He then got himself nailed to a big chunk of wood as a human/divine being sacrifice to forgive mankind for Adam and Eve's original sin which ... well ... wasn't really mankind's mistake on the whole. And, in Adam and Eve's defence, it was kind of ... I believe the modern phrase would be ... entrapment. Creating a man out of dust, a woman out of his rib, telling them not to eat a specific apple and then sending a talking snake to urge them to have a nibble seems somehow like dirty pool. I'm not sure it would stand up in many courts of law. Dropping LSD after my parents told me not to didn't even get me kicked out of the house, let alone the Garden of Eden. The old man didn't staple my little brother to the garage door so he could forgive me either. God could have just forgotten about the entire bloody thing without Jesus getting nailed or Mary not, but who am I to question the will of The Almighty?
So there you go friends -- you're spared eternal damnation because of Christmas.

Unless you're a queer (Cory... Greg... are you paying attention?).

Or you covet your neighbour's herd (we all know about your sheep fetish, Bridgens).

Or somehow doubt the validity of the above story (sensible people, and Barb, I'm looking at you!).

So, Happy Xmas to one and all and try to remember the words of the philosopher Voltaire in the coming new year ...
"Those who can make you believe absurdities can make you commit atrocities."

Some Trivia You May Not Have Known About Brian...

...He finds the idea of Karma more palatable than the other pseudo-mystical horseshit he has been fed. The idea of 'Don't be a douche-bag lest it bite you in the ass' is much more appealing than some omniscient dude who frowns on abortion, infidels and pork.
He secretly suspects being a douche-bag will get you further in life. He doubts but hopes that the douche-bags will come back as dung beetles or electronics salesmen in the next life.

...He knows he's made a horrible mistake with his life...He just doesn't have a handle on fixing it since he now has to support both himself and The Tiny-Toothed Mayoress of Needy Town. If anyone wants to offer him a reasonable, adult-sized job -- please respond via this blog.
I'll warn you upfront -- He does drink. He really likes taking pills. Oh yeah, and he probably won't put up with your 'I'm the boss' shit. Other than that, he is a model employee.

...He thinks Alex Lifeson from the progressive rock 'n' roll band Rush is the best guitar player in the world ... based solely on the first two tracks of Permenant Waves.
Jimi Hendrix, Eric Clapton and Liona Boyd be damned.

...He misses Perry -- who has ruined New Year's Eve for Brian (you selfish prick, Perry) by snuffing it on that night -- and he has been a very, very bad god-father to Samantha.
Though it makes him become a bit maudlin at times, he hopes that Newfie bastard is resting in peace.

...He is a very bad electonics salesman -- he keeps telling people to go and invest more money in a Mac.
He doesn't sell them at his store and can't make a commission from it, but ... ehhh. It's a better computer ... and Vista is a pain in the balls.
Go buy an Apple computer. Spend the extra money.

...He doesn't really like Sex In The City, Friends or Degrassi: Anything ... He just pretends that to get laid. It rarely works.
He actually likes hockey, pornography and violence films.

...He hates this stupid foster-cat.

More Simpsons Quotes I Actually Use in Everyday Life

The previous post on this subject seemed pretty popular ... and I do like to pander to the lowest common denominator.
Plus, I get to rip off funny stuff from another source without doing my own work.
So...what the hell?
I expect at least fifty comments with your own favourite Simpsons quotes or I'll rethink this entire pandering...nay, blogging... idea.


"I used to rock and roll all night and party every day. Then it was every other day. Now I'm lucky if I can find half an hour a week in which to get funky."
-- Homer J. Simpson
Homer says this when he realizes that he is hopelessly out of touch with '90s music. His beloved Grand Funk Railroad (later shortened to Grand Funk ... probably by record company weasels in suits) is no longer a relevant musical force. Despite the wild, shirtless rythyms of Mark Farner and the compentent drumming of Don Brewer.
I like to use this this quote whenever (if-ever) I do something stereotypically ... well... adult. Like buying RRSPs from my banker. Or convenience store clerk. Where do they sell those damn things anyway?


"You can't seriously want to ban alcohol. It tastes great, makes women appear more attractive, and makes a person virtually invulnerable to criticism."
-- Mayor Quimby
This is how Quimby responded when the town charter revealed Springfield was still a 'dry' town. I don't think I can add anything to this quote. I can't make it any more funnier or any more true.

"Hey, you know, I once knew a man from Nantucket...let's just say the stories about him are greatly exaggerated"
-- Homer J. Simpson
Homer sees Nantucket on a map...ehh...this is rarely used -- but if a certain island in Massachusetts ever comes up in conversation -- you're golden.

"Oh boy! Sleep! That's where I'm a Viking!"
-- Ralph Wiggum
Oh Ralphie, where do I begin to start. Your non-sequiters, grammatical errors and foolish statements speak to the retarded child in all of us (see also: my cat smells like cat food, I bent my wookie and Me fail english? That's unpossible!).

"Like the time I caught the ferry over to Shelbyville. I needed a new heel for my shoe, so I decided to go to Morganville, which is what they called Shelbyville in those days. So I tied an onion to my belt, which was the style at the time. Now, to take the ferry cost a nickel, and in those days nickels had pictures of bumblebees on 'em. Give me five bees for a quarter, you'd say. Now, where were we, oh yeah, the important thing was that I had an onion on my belt, which was the style at the time. They didn't have white onions, because of the war. The only thing you could get was those big yellow ones..."
-- Abe (Grampa) Simpson
Hired by Mr. Burns to quell union unrest, Abe can't break heads like he could as a strike-breaker in the '30s. He can bore people with pointless stories, I just use this to mock old and/or boring people.

Like I said...I want at least fifty replies. Post your favourite Simpson quotes. I know that I have between eight and twelve loyal readers. Surely to God...Surely to appease my own ego...For the love of the teddy bear Mohammed...Just post your favourites.